I am a nice guy. Or so my female friends tell me. I'm a nice, helpful,generally likeable guy. So nice in fact that once a year, during thatwonderful festival called Raksha Bandhan when we Indians celebrate thatbond between a brother and sister, you will find me hiding under a table,or if that's not safe enough, under a chair, whimpering in fear, andblithering like an idiot. (A lot of people feel that is exactly what I am,but let's not get into that now.)

A close friend of mine once said to me (and this was a girl who I had beencontemplating proposing marriage to), "I wish I had a younger brother likeyou." I mean, how is a man supposed to react to a statement like that? Ithink women use such statements to see how men respond to situations ofextreme stress. It's probably some kind of experiment in psychology. And women go along with it simply because, you know, they are women.

Talking about the strange things women have said to me, this is one of myfavorites: "You remind me of my dog." Meaning, I assume, that I walk on allfours, have long flappy ears, and prefer to relieve myself in front of awater hydrant. I wonder if anyone would want that kind of person as his orher younger brother.

So, as you would have guessed by now, I am single. I am a single, nice,helpful, generally likeable guy. Who reminds women of their dog.

And I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as a singlewoman. A single woman is like Schrödinger's cat. (For thenot-so-technically-inclined, Schrödinger was a physicist. The sadist thathe was, he used a poor little cat to teach quantum physics. He hypothesizeda cat in a box, with an arrangement such that as long as the box wasclosed, the cat could be either dead or alive. But the moment you openedthe box to check, a poisonous gas would be released killing the catinstantly -- if it had been alive in the first place. For more details,type "Schrödinger's cat" in Google.)

Women are like that. Until you bother to find out whether they are singleor not, they could be either. But the moment you get curious... bang,they're single no longer. It is normally between the first and third weekof my acquaintance with a girl that I'm given this glorious piece of information.

"Hey, I have something to tell you. I'm getting engaged next week, and Iwant you to come to the party." Ahem.

"Guess what? I'm getting married next month! Aren't you overjoyed?" Yes, ofcourse. I'm so happy I have tears in my eyes.

Once, I was talking to a girl on the phone, and we were interrupted whenshe got a call on the other line. She came back on line a couple of minuteslater with the words "Oh, I'm sorry about that. That was my boyfriend."

Your what?And you know another thing? Somehow, I inspire this unprecedented amount oftrust in women. I'm considered completely harmless! Not only by the women,but even their boyfriends, fiancés and husbands!

"Oh, you're with him? Fine. Have a nice time."

"You want to take a walk on the beach? I'm a little busy. Why don't youtake him along?"

"It's Valentine's day. The poor guy must be alone. Why not call him overfor lunch?"

I guess I've earned that reputation over a long period of time, but still,you know. Sometimes you wish the guys would feel just a little bit threatened.

And it's not like I look harmless either. The following incident is afavorite example:

I was at an Archie's gallery. This was the time when they had that stuffedmonkey on sale. You know, the one that whistled every time you crossed itspath. The kind of whistle that a guy might make when a good-looking girlwalks by. So the monkey was on display in one of the aisles, and the firstfive minutes that I was there, it must have been triggered about 15 times.Gets quite irritating, really. After that, for a few minutes, there was noone in the shop, and I had some peace. Then a girl walked in, and sooncrossed the path of the monkey. The monkey whistled dutifully. And out ofcuriosity, with a big smile on my face for some reason, I turned to see whothe monkey had whistled at. At exactly the same moment, the girl turnedaround, to see who had whistled. If looks could kill, she would have wipedout an army. Fifteen seconds later she had left the shop. I must thank mylucky stars she didn't slap me, or have me beaten up by the moral brigade.But I think you understand what I'm trying to say. Which is, that I don'tlook all that harmless. So, why the loads of trust?

They also tell me that I'm easy to talk to. That is probably why I'm one ofthe first people a girl would tell her secret crushes to. None of whichever include me, of course. But I think you must have guessed that. As youcan imagine, I attend most weddings as a friend of the girl.

But I take solace in the fact that I'm not the only one. Look at the twomen currently heading our government -- our esteemed Prime Minister, and our President. They are both single. With any luck, I'll do better than them. I hope... :-)